My Hour Will Come
by The Fifth Maurauder
Summary: Albus Dumbledore, an eleven-year-old who has scarcley begun to comprehend the potential of his world, and just what he can accomplish for it.
1. The Boy

The parchment was heavy in the young boy's hand as he struggled to unwrap the letter confined within. Carelessly breaking apart the wax seal, he let the thick volume fall heavily onto his lap.  
  
This was the moment he had been waiting for, for almost his entirety. He was eleven-years-old, and already with a lifelong dream. Albus Dumbledore wanted to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
His small, pale hands shook as he struggled to unfold the heavy letter, on which his name was inscribed in luminous emerald ink.  
  
Albus was small, and skinny for his age, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in knowledge and strength. With wand, or potion, the boy could work wonders, and he never though twice about helping someone in need. His hair spanned to his waist, long and white-blond, usually left to hang by its own accord, though sometimes tied back, when Albus was working. His brother, Aberforth, was exactly the opposite.  
  
Tall, dark, and self-obsessed, Aberforth, now fourteen-years-old, was admired by all. His dark, black hair flowed to his shoulders, where, usually, it was tied back with a blue ribboning or a simple strip of twine.  
  
His face was long and tan, his skin equally dark, and his muscles evenly distributed. Though the boy was ambidextrous, he wouldn't have known, for all that he never picked up a quill if he could help it. Pride and joy of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Aberforth got away with slacking, quite unfairly, in Albus' opinion.  
  
The letter was tearstained and the ink was running just a few hours later. "I'm so proud of you, Albus!" the boy's weeping mother exclaimed, hugging her son to her chest. Aberforth, who's robes the boys' mother was tailoring, stood aloofly to the side, a lopsided grin on his face.  
  
Mary Lillith Dumbledore was usually a quiet woman, never vain, nor conceded. Her hair was grayed, and her bright, blue eyes shone like sapphires to illuminate her careworn features. A widow, and a muggle-born, Mary cherished her sons like no one has ever cherished their children. Because they reminded her of their late father, because all of her wrongs were made right in them, or both, no one would ever know.  
  
"You're a born Ravenclaw, you know," Aberforth said later that day, as Albus rooted through the list of things that he needed to buy for school.  
  
"What makes you say that?" Albus demanded with a sigh, placing the list down on his bed. "I was rather hoping to be a Gryffindor, like you."  
  
"Because you're practically a budding genius, Albus." Aberforth replied with a shrug. "And even if you have a speck of a chance at getting into Gryffindor, you wouldn't even begin to compare to me."  
  
"Nor would I want to," Albus grumbled, watching his brother tie his fine hair back with a glorious blue ribbon. "What does being smart have to do with getting into Ravenclaw?" the boy asked, peering down at his acceptance letter through his small, reading spectacles.  
  
"Simple," Aberforth said with a half-smile. "All of the smart ones were Ravenclaw. It's said that it was Rowena Ravenclaw herself who thought up the idea of founding Hogwarts, you know."  
  
"Actually, it was Slytherin and Gryffindor's idea.I read it in Hogwarts, a History." Albus said brightly, reaching down under his bed and returning with a large, leather-bound book.  
  
"Yes, yes.you're definatley going to be a Ravenclaw, my dear brother." Aberforth said with a laugh. "Anyone your age who reads books like that is bound to get somewhere.even if people resent you for it."  
  
Albus looked up sharply, his spectacles slipping off the bridge of his nose and landing with a tinkering sound on the hard, wooden floor. The sound of the door closing with a snap alerted him of his brother's leave.  
  
"Aberforth, wait!" He cried, tripping on his bed coverings as he struggled to reach the door. "What do you mean they'll resent me for it? Aberforth!" Reaching the door, the boy wrenched it open, only to face an empty hallway. His brother had gone. "I don't understand." Albus muttered to the nothingness of the hall. 


	2. A Mysterious New Foe

Albus sighed gently as his mother took his hand and lead he and Aberforth down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Several of the shops had been newly built, and the scent of fresh timber and pine needles seeped from just about everywhere.  
  
"Mother," Albus said quietly, looking up at Mary with an odd, overwhelmed look in his eyes as they opened the door to the bookstore. "I'm eleven- years-old, Mother, can I please walk on my own?" He nodded toward their joined hands.  
  
Mary's face reflected a slightly wounded expression, but then it softened, and she smiled warmly at her youngest son, letting his hand fall limply to his side. "Of course, my dear.of course."  
  
Albus would have laughed out loud with outright glee, but the boy contained himself until he retired behind a bookshelf. Around the corner, he heard his mother ordering his first-year required books, and he smiled, sliding down the far wall into a sitting position. He laughed gently, placing a hand to his forehead. He was going to school. He was going to be a wizard. Nothing could stop him, now.  
  
Albus glanced to his left, peering curiously at a book to which his eyes seemed to instantly be drawn, as if he had been staring at the cover for hours.  
  
He stood clumsily, and ran his forefinger along the book's spine. His light blue eyes scanned the title: Omens and Premonitions of Our Modern Wizarding World. "Odd." Albus muttered, pulling the thick volume from its place on the very edge of the shelf.  
  
His thin, white fingers trembled, though only slightly, as he slowly opened the cover. Around him was an air if misbehavior, as if in touching this book was some dreadful mishap, or wrongdoing.  
  
"An interesting choice for a lad of your age," a voice behind him said. Albus, jumpy and defensive from this unusual text, dropped it in the startling moment, and could have sworn that his heart stopped beating as he turned to face the unknowing intruder.  
  
The voice belonged to a young man, about seventeen-years-old, who stood, leaning against the shelf lazily. His long, gently curled brown hair spanned to the small of his back, where it was loosely tied to look presentable. His form was draped in a dark green cloak, which, dark as they were, didn't begin to match the abysmal darkness of his near-black eyes.  
  
"Oh," Albus breathed, placing a hand to his heaving chest. "I'm sorry, I'll just." He stooped to lift the book off the floor, quickly depositing it back onto the shelf. The young man held up a hand. "It's alright, young one." He examined Albus for a moment, and the boy tensed, staring up at the man warily. "You're quite nervous, boy." He commented, scratching his chin. "Calm down."  
  
"Albus, where are you?" Aberforth called from the end of the isle of shelves. "Mother's finished. We're heading over to the apothecary.oh.hello, Dane." He skirted the young man with a heartless smile, and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come on now, Albus." He muttered, dark-blue eyes never leaving the strange teenager.  
  
"Goodbye, Aberforth. It was nice speaking with you, Albus. I look forward to meeting you again." The young man said to Aberforth's retreating back.  
  
"What did he say to you?" Aberforth demanded in an undertone as the brothers followed at their mother's heels toward the apothecary.  
  
"Nothing interesting," Albus replied. "I guess I just kind of went numb, because he told me to calm down, and then you showed up. Who was he, anyway?"  
  
"That was Dane Grindelwald." Aberforth muttered, eyes narrowing at the mere mention of the strange boy. "He's the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, seventh year."  
  
Albus stared at Aberforth for a moment, before he managed to speak. "So?" He whispered, staring back at his brother for a moment. He saw a gentle bead of sweat roll down his brother's face as he worriedly peered behind them, and then up at their mother to be sure she wasn't listening. "Listen to me now, Albus, for this is very important." Aberforth's voice was a low whisper. "Stay away from him. He's dangerous."  
  
Albus furrowed his brow, and was about to ask why, when suddenly, Aberforth looked up. "Lydia! Lydia, over here, Lydia!" He waved frantically at a pretty blond girl, who stood, with a shorter, less elegant girl, outside Eyelops Owl Emporium. The smaller girl's hair was long, straight, and strawberry blond, her skin was light, and her nose was small, dotted with freckles.  
  
"Aberforth!" The taller girl cried, rushing forward. The two hugged with enthusiasm. "Mother," Aberforth said, turning back to their mother, gripping the girl, Lydia's hand tightly. "This is Lydia, mother. You remember Lydia, right?"  
  
Their mother beamed at the strange girl, Albus scuffing his feet gently on the gravel. "Of course, dear. How are you, Lydia? How's your mother?" The conversation was trivial from that point on, and Albus silently dismissed himself to approach the window of Eyelops.  
  
Light-blue eyes widened at the sight of hundreds of animals contained behind bars, and inside baskets or cages. "Oh.how I wish I had an owl." he sighed. "Me too," A voice beside him agreed. He jumped, and glanced to the side, where the younger girl stood with her eyes close to the glass. They were a deep shade of violet.  
  
"Hello," Albus said with a smile, and then, remembering his ediquite, bowed, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "I mean, how do you do, miss?" To his great surprise, the girl just stared, and then, began to laugh.  
  
"What's so funny?" Albus demanded huffily, glaring at her from his bowed position. "Get up," said the girl between giggles.  
  
She held out a dainty hand to him, and he took it in his with an embarrassed smile. "Albus Dumbledore." He said gently. "Rose Stratford." The girl replied. She smiled. "Are you going to Hogwarts, Albus?" She asked, turning her attention back to the window, and entertaining herself with waving at a kitten with glowing green eyes.  
  
"Yes, are you?" Albus replied, staring at a dark, black eagle-owl which rested on its perch atop the other cages.  
  
"Of course. I see your brother knows Lydia," Rose said, turning to face Aberforth and Lydia, who stood engrossed in conversation, and still holding hands. "Albus, come on, sweetheart, we're going to get your potions ingredients, now." His mother called to him. Mary watched Aberforth, deep in conversation with Lydia Stratford. "I suppose we'll get your brother's, as well."  
  
Albus smiled gently at Rose, and bowed again, though mockingly, making a face so that his mother couldn't see. Rose giggled, placing a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound, and Albus followed his mother into the apothecary.  
  
(A/N: So what'd you think? Not to bad, right? The second chapter vastly lacked something that the first chapter had, but anyway, review, please!) 


End file.
